


Down But Not Out

by Yadirocks



Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-29
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-05-10 02:40:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5566153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yadirocks/pseuds/Yadirocks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Fine, do whatever you want, Mikey. But none of the blame is on my shoulders if you screw this up."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Heat of the Moment

The heat of the day matched perfectly with the heat of the moment. Michael Wacha stood on the mound, trying to get a better grip on the ball. It felt like a million degrees outside. Sweat coated the sides of his head, making the hair closest to his temples damp. Even the shield that his ball cap provided wasn't helping him today.

As if the catcher could sense his discomfort, Yadier called time and jogged to the mound. How did he find the ability to run in these temperatures? 

Yadier lifted his mask, wiping the sweat from his brow. "What's wrong, Mikey?" he asked, covering his mouth with his glove. "It's too freaking hot out here, Yadi," Michael whined. 

"Well, this is Florida, Mikey," Yadier reasoned, glancing around the stadium. "You gonna pitch or not?"

Michael rolled his eyes. "Of course I'm gonna pitch," he said, as if it were obvious. "I just needed some time to cool off, that's all."

With a sigh, Yadier brought his gaze back to his pitcher. "How much time do you need?" he asked, looking back at the umpire, who was tapping his foot impatiently and glaring at his back. Everyone wanted this game to be over so they could get in the air conditioning. 

"Just go on back. I'm fine now," Michael reassured. "Let's get this over with."

Yadier nodded. "Throw the changeup. Stanton hates changeups."

Before he could leave, Michael said, "I don't want to throw the changeup. It's not working today, Yadi. I want to throw the fastball."

"I don't think that's a good idea, Mikey."

"Well, I don't think the changeup is a good idea, Yadi."

"We don't have all day, Molina!" the umpire yelled from behind the plate. Yadier gave Michael a glare. "Mikey, you can't be afraid to use a pitch. Throw the changeup. You have a runner on third, one out and a one-run lead. We can't take any risks," he said.

Michael put his hands on his hips. "I'm the pitcher, and you always tell me how the pitcher is always right," he pointed out. "I'm throwing a fastball."

"Fine, do whatever you want, Mikey. But none of the blame is on my shoulders if you screw this up," Yadier snapped.

"Get your fat butt back behind the plate so we can get this show on the road," Michael snapped back. Yadier clinched his fists before turning and heading back to home plate. Michael set up, noticing how Yadier didn't even put down a sign. There was no arguing with Michael now.

Michael smiled, thinking he had finally gotten his way. He threw the fastball, not a doubt in his mind that it would work.

So when it went soaring into the outfield for a routine fly, he was relieved. Then, he remembered the runner on third and raced to behind the backstop. Yadier was setting up for the throw from Stephen Piscotty, not paying Michael any attention.

The throw was just wide of the plate, and it would've hit the runner had Yadier not dove for it. When he did, his arm got caught in the runner's slide into home. 

Both players fell to the ground, dust flying everywhere. When it all cleared, Yadier still had his arm stuck underneath the runner. "Out!" the umpire yelled, noticing that the ball was still in Yadier's glove.

The runner, Jarrod Saltamaachia, stood and brushed himself off. Yadier didn't get up, though. Michael gasped when he saw his arm, which was twisted at an awkward ankle. The catcher was pale, paler than Michael had ever seen him, and his face was emotionless as he clutched his arm.

Mike Matheny came running out, along with one of the trainers, John. "I...I think it's broken," Yadier said, though he seemed like he was in a daze. Michael felt the guilt eat at him. He should've listened to Yadier and thrown the changeup.

Mike patted Yadier's other arm, drawing his attention away while John looked at his arm. "Don't pass out on me, bud," he said. John sighed. "He's in shock. He probably doesn't even feel any pain right now, do you, Yadi?"

The catcher shook his head. John glanced at Michael. "Can you go get a sling for me while we get him down to the training room? There should be one in Mike's office," he said.

Michael nodded, racing to go get the sling. As he left, he heard Mike say, "We need to get him to the hospital before the pain starts in. This is the worst broken arm that I've ever seen."

With a gulp, Michael shook his head of his guilty and instead focused on his job, which was finding the sling. He would do anything to help Yadier. Especially since the catcher had saved Michael yet again.


	2. Help

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summaries are for the weak.

"It's not that bad."

"Your arm is broken, Yadi."

"So?"

Adam rolled his eyes as he signed Yadier's cast. "You don't think that maybe this a bit of a big deal? I mean, you are a catcher. Your arm matters," Adam said, jabbing Yadier's arm with his sharpie for emphasis.

The wind blew threw the dugout, making Yadier rub his hand up and down the sleeve of his red hoodie. The sound of Adam capping his sharpie met his ears, and he knew Adam was still talking, but he found himself zoning out. What if Adam was right? Was he being too carefree about his broken arm?

Yadier had had torn ligaments. He'd had oblique strains. He'd had everything from swollen knees to concussions. Never before had he had a broken bone. The thought of what might result of it sent a chill down his spine that had nothing to do with the cold, September air. 

"Earth to Molina," he heard Adam say. "What's wrong with you? Just a minute ago, you were happy as a lark."

It took most of his will to smile at Adam. Even though he tried to make it genuine, Adam could see right through it. He absolutely hated that Adam knew him so well. The pitcher's hand fell on his shoulder. "You okay?" he asked, concern lacing his voice. "Don't lie to me."

Yadier found himself unable to speak. What he wanted to say would wound his pride. Then again, he had just broken his arm in front of a crowd of 40,000. His pride couldn't be more shattered. He opened his mouth to speak, but went silent as Michael came into the dugout. 

Adam followed his gaze, sighing when he realized Yadier was staring at Michael. "I'm sure he's not mad at you," Adam whispered. "He has no reason to be. And you have no reason to be mad at him either. Why are you two acting like being in the same place with each other is a big deal?"

He watched as Michael picked up a bottle of orange Gatorade, popping the lid and gulping some down. Either Michael didn't feel Yadier's eyes on him, or he was really good at avoiding his gaze. It hurt when he looked at Michael, and he wasn't quite sure why. It wasn't anger or frustration. It was just...sadness. Overwhelming sadness, now that he thought about it.

"It's not that," he found himself saying to Adam. The ace looked him in the eyes, breaking his gaze from Michael. The pitcher was frowning at him. "Are you alright?" he asked quietly. "You look a little pale."

"That's how I always look," Yadier snapped. Adam stepped back, a bit shocked. Luckily, Michael had run out on the field and hadn't heard his tone of voice. 

Guilt flooded his heart, and he averted his eyes in shame. "I'm sorry, Adam," he whispered. "I...I don't know what came over me."

Gingerly, Adam stepped closer. "Whatever is going on between you isn't helping you," Adam whispered. "It's making you more tense than you already are. Talk to him. It'll make you feel better, maybe even take that weight off your shoulders."

As always, Adam was right. Adam stopped him before he could stand. "You still don't look so good. Are you sure you're okay?" he asked, concerned eyes searching his. Shelby Miller had said in 2013 that Yadi could see into someone's soul, it seemed. If that was the case, then he'd never had Adam look him in the eye before when he knew he wasn't okay. He felt like everything was exposed. He hated that feeling.

Adam's hand squeezed his shoulder. "Don't be mad at me," he said. "I'm just worried about you, that's all. I'm worried about both of you, but especially you because of that broken bone you've got there."

How could he do that? How was Adam able to tell Yadier how he felt all the time? Adam was an open book, while Yadier was a box of secrets. It seemed Adam always had the key.

"I don't want you to worry about me," he said. Then it hit him. He knew why he was so sad when he looked at Michael. It was because not once had Michael looked back at him the entire week. He stood up at the realization, but found that he stood up too quickly. Red dots filled his vision.

When they had cleared, he was sitting down again. Adam was gripping his shoulders in order to keep him from falling over on his side. "And you don't want me to worry about you," he heard Adam mutter. 

"I'm fine," he said, though he blinked a few times to get rid of the remaining dots. "Honest."

Adam gave him a skeptical look before releasing his hands from Yadier's shoulders. "Take it slow this time. The last thing we need is for you to have two broken arms," he reasoned.

Yadier remembered why he had stood up so fast, and a smile spread across his face. Adam frowned. "Uh oh. That can't be good."


End file.
